


Finals Week

by sleepygirl0305



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, and enjolras thirsts over him, grantaire is really good at statistics?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepygirl0305/pseuds/sleepygirl0305
Summary: Enjolras is really regretting taking advanced statistics, but he needed the math credits. And he does not want (and he's lying to himself) to be tutored by the man he has an insanely huge crush on, but Grantaire is an actual math genius. So, what better way to spend the night?And, well, finals week does things to you.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Finals Week

**Author's Note:**

> i just imagine grantaire as talented in like a billion things all at once. need someone to fix a broken pipe? grantaire. need someone to teach you how knit a scarf? grantaire. need someone to tutor you in advanced statistics? grantaire.
> 
> everything is based on my very one-dimensional knowledge of basic statistics i took in college, like, 4 years ago now. i did get an A- in the class, so i think i am VERY qualified to write this fic, thank you very much.
> 
> anyways, enjoy!

_6:35 PM_

Enjolras steeled himself at the door, taking deep breaths at the door of apartment 7. _You can do this. He’s just going to tutor you. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours._

He knocked twice. R answers the door quickly, and Enjolras has to remember to inhale and keep his hands to himself.. _Why the fuck did he have to answer the door without a shirt on? How does anyone look this good while sweaty?_

“Hey, sorry to greet you like this,” He says apologetically, running a hand through his curls, “I was working out before you came. You go ahead and make yourself comfortable, I’ll just go shower.”

Enjolras nods and enters his apartment. Grantaire smiles at him before turning around, and it takes all of his effort to not stare at the strong shoulders turned towards him. For the sake of his own sanity, he tries not to imagine him in a shower, like his damp skin or curls sticking to his neck and-

_Inhale. Go and distract yourself._

He muses that he’s only been to his apartment once before: when he had come to apologize to Grantaire nearly three years ago during a really bad fight. He remembers how he knocked the door ten times before R had opened, face blotchy and eyebrows scrunched in anger. How he had whispered apologies, and R’s face softened. There was a promise that they’d both be less hard on the other, and that they’d try to get to know each other without judgment.

Things had changed a lot since then.

Meanwhile, the apartment has not changed much. There are still art supplies on the ground. He notes two mugs seated on a small side table, one engraved with _Not Paint Water_ and the other with _Paint Water._ There’s a canvas depicting what appears to be a barricade, with men standing on it with their fists raised with the sunrise touching the surfaces with golden light. It’s an unbelievably talented depiction. Enjolras sucks in a breath.

He places his backpack down on the ground, before returning to the painting to examine it further. The men on the barricade have their own face, their own personality. There’s one man who is wearing green, holding a bottle in the other hand. There’s the man at the front, blond hair in a ponytail, wearing a red jacket. He kind of looks like…

“Alright, I’m ready!” Grantaire announces, wearing a shirt and jeans. The sleeves are just a little tight on him, accentuating a pair of strong arms that Enjolras tries not to look at. His smile fades slightly as he sees where he is standing, “I see you’ve found my final art project.”

“Yeah. It looks great,” Enjolras says sincerely, “How did you get the idea for this?”

Grantaire shrugs, “I had a dream about it. The image was so vivid. The actual depiction, though, needs a ton of improvement. I need to finish working on the background,” he points out to the edges of the painting, which are kept mostly blank.

“I think it’s great. Really, R.”

He smiled modestly, “Thanks, that’s really nice of you. Now, we gotta get you started on statistics. In between stuff, like when you’re practicing drills or whatever, I’ll work on my project. I am _very_ behind. Don’t worry though, my attention will be on you. How much have you covered?”

Enjolras put a hand behind his neck and gave him a sheepish look, “Uh...not a lot?”

Grantaire was moving his easel and paint supplies towards the dining table, “You haven’t started at all, haven’t you?”

“No.”

He sighed before giving him a tiny smirk, “Alright. You’re really lucky I like math, then.”

+

_7:46 PM_

They are a chapter and a half in, Grantaire has begun painting the edges of the canvas, and Enjolras is three steps away from banging his head on the dining table.

“Okay, just remember that the wider the curve is, the more distributed the answers are across the population.”

“Wouldn’t that be counterintuitive? Like, if the curve is curvier, then more people think the same thing?”

“No!” Grantaire sighed before smiling slightly, “You know, it’s funny. You’re good at a lot of things. I would have never suspected you’d suck at numbers. Don’t you need to learn numbers in political science? Or,” his smile turned into a smirk that made Enjolras’ stomach flip, “is eating the rich the only item of the agenda?”

He huffed and looked down at his textbook, “Yeah, maybe. The rich taste like shit, though.”

“Really?” Grantaire said, “Are there other humans that taste better?”

And Enjolras does something _incredibly_ stupid. 

His eyes briefly rake the other man’s body, in that shirt and jeans that hug his thighs perfectly, and says quietly, “Maybe.”

He doesn’t miss the way Grantaire’s eyes widen slightly, and how he swallows. But just as quickly as it happens, he clears his throat and says, “Okay, good joke. Show me the drills you just did?”

Enjolras looks at his 300-page textbook that he paid an ungodly amount of money for, and surmises it makes a good surface to knock one’s head against. This was going to be a long night.

+

_8:17 PM_

Grantaire has temporarily shifted his focus away from the edges of the canvas to adding more detail to the figure in red. Enjolras has shifted now to probability, which is a step easier than bell curves. But he keeps looking at how Grantaire’s fingers curve around the paintbrush, making the most perfect of strokes. Maybe it would be just as good on-

“Have you finished your drills?” He says just then, looking up at him. His eyes are brown, like the earth after a rainstorm. They’re so _warm._

“Yeah, I just did,” He says, handing the sheet over to him to check. He looks over nervously at him as R scans through.

“You’re getting there, Enj, but not quite.” He sticks a paint-dripped hand into his hair, leaving spots of grey and red, “The simple probability you got. The ones that are slightly more complicated, you’re getting wrong. You just need to think of it as fractions. And multiply it together.”

“You can’t blame me for not getting it, I failed the fractions module in fourth grade,” he mumbled.

Grantaire gaped, “What? Why?”

“I spent the time in math class organizing a protest for more vegetarian options in the cafeteria.”

The other man bit his lip, trying to hold back a grin, until he finally burst out in a long, hearty laugh, “That sounds exactly like the cheerful man I know today. Fractions? I suppose fractions are a small detail in the grand scheme of things.”

Enjolras replied with a grumpy, “Well, why do you like math so much then? You’re an art major, right?”

Grantaire smiled, placing his paintbrush behind his ear, and a small drop of blue paint fell on his cheekbones. It looks beautiful, almost. His face is beginning to look like art itself.

“Math is incredibly helpful to art. Parts of geometry are helpful to figuring out proportions. The Greek sculptor Polykleitos used a particular ratio to describe the ideal male nude,” Enjolras swears he saw his eyes rake over his body like he had done earlier, but he isn’t sure, “Statistics is a little harder to match to that, honestly.” Grantaire’s eyes are looking upwards, eyes in deep thought, “But statistics helps generate a picture of people. If I wanted to figure out right now how many people like my art or what matters to them, I can use statistics for that.”

Enjolras nodded, slightly speechless, “I never thought of it that way.”

Grantaire smiled teasingly, “Of course not, you’re perfectly busy ending all of the world’s injustices as it is. Perfectly understandable. Leave the numbers and colors to the other people, you know?”

He nodded, “I suppose that’s fair.” He couldn’t stop staring at the other man’s smile as he pulled the paintbrush out of his hair and continued to create strokes on the canvas on his lap.

A silence passed over them for half an hour, as Enjolras tackled all of the sample problems. He tried pulling out whatever he knew about fractions. Honestly, it had been a miracle he got through high school math at all. He was trying his best, though. He’d be damned if he had to retake a class, especially with graduation being only a semester away.

Grantaire’s hand has returned to painting the background. When he concentrates, his eyebrows are furrowed. His mouth is just slightly open with the tongue pressed between his teeth, as if laser focusing on what’s in front of him. 

He’s beautiful, and Enjolras yearns.

+

_9:03 PM_

“We need fuel. I have leftover pizza, and I can make coffee. Want some?” Grantaire changed into a pair of shorts only 15 minutes ago, and it’s only then that Enjolras notices how round his thighs are. For a moment, the image of him between those legs flashes in mind before he shuts it down it and just says:

“Yeah,” he says while rubbing his eyes, “I need a break. My brain is swimming with numbers.”

Grantaire smiled as he opened the fridge and took out a pizza box, “Okay. I’ve learned to let your break get a brain at times while doing something you don’t like. Talk about something you like.”

“Well, there’s this case I’ve been work-”

“ _Not_ politics!” Grantaire announced, “That also puts work on your brain. Something else.”

Enjolras glared at him before conceding, “I, uh, started taking a cup of green tea in the mornings instead of coffee. It’s helpful. It makes sure I don’t go into overload.”

He smiled, as he loaded pizza into the microwave, “That’s really good. Small habits help. I also started doing yoga after working out.”

“Do you like it? I thought about doing it, I just never have time.”

“It’s the best. Because it just brings me back to reality after a hard workout. Plus it’s made me more flexible,” he said, “which is nice.”

Enjolras again stares at the man’s body, toned and tight. _I need to stop thirsting over him. This is the worst time to do that._ “Maybe I’ll try it another time.”

+

_10:13 PM_

Pizza is half-eaten, coffee almost done. Grantaire is putting finishing touches on the base of the painting edges before moving to details. Enjolras' hand is covering his eyes, the other outstretched on the table.

“It’s hopeless. I’m going to fail. I’ll be delayed from entering law school and my life is ruined.”

Something smacked the hand on the table, and he yelped, “What was _that_ for?”

“You’re not going to fail,” Grantaire snorted, “You’re Enjolras. I have never seen you do mediocre on anything. You failed at cooking dinner once at a movie night, and you did it three times until the chicken parm was perfect the next night. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

“We’re only on unit five. There are twelve units, R.”

“You have two days to the exam, which is more than enough time.”

Enjolras groaned, exhausted from the last week and the tension from this upcoming exam and the way Grantaire was gazing at him softly. And _of course_ R picks that time to reach and hold his hand in reassurance. His heart is pounding that he can hear it in his ears.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m _not letting_ you fail.” His hands are warm and slightly callused, “I’ll tutor you until the morning, if we have to. Besides, this painting may take a little longer than expected.”

He met his gaze, taking a deep breath, “Thank you. Really. It means a lot you carved out time for me.”

“Anything for you, Apollo.”

+

_11:48 PM_

They’re on the second cup of coffee. The window outside shows a black sky, save for the moon. 

“Okay, so scatter plots basically display values along two axes. It plots data for, like, an individual case. So, one dot would represent one person, for example.”

“Uh-huh,” The coffee must be beginning to wear off, because Enjolras’s eyelids are drooping, “And then you kind of make a line from there? For correlation?”

“Yeah! You’re getting it!” Grantaire beamed, “Now, of course, sometimes the dots are too widely scattered, and so it can’t make a line. At that point, you kind of just say that there’s no correlation because none of the dots match.”

Enjolras nodded, “I know the professor likes to ask what are real life examples of that happening. I don’t have a clue what an example of this would look like.”

“Hmm,” he muses, “Do you mind if I move my chair next to you?”

And in that moment, Enjolras knows his cheeks are flushing red because they’re warm to the touch and he absolutely hates it. He’s secretly grateful because he just nods and Grantaire scoots his chair towards him.

“I’m going to draw a sample, so you can visualize it.” His voice is slightly rough from how long they’ve been talking about statistics, and exhaustion, “So here’s your x and y plot, and I’m going to draw a bunch of dots on it. We’ll think about each dot as a dog.”

“A dog?” He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Grantaire shrugged, “I like dogs. Anyway, each dog has their own little life. Sometimes, patterns emerge. Sometimes, they don’t.”

Enjolras is registering now his beard, which is in-between scruffy and well-maintained, and how it suits him so well. He wonders what beard burn would be like. It isn't till then he realizes that he's missed half of what he's said.

“Enj? Hello?”

He blinked, eyes coming to focus to see a concerned Grantaire, eyebrows scrunched together in an adorable frown, “Sorry. Coffee is wearing off.”

“Well, we’ve made good progress. You’re on unit 7 and you’re getting a little more than half of the items right. Why don’t we just take a break and talk?”

“What if we run behind?”

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to force you to go to sleep.”

Enjolras can’t help but smile at his stubbornness. 

+

_12:52 AM_

They’ve been talking for way too long, but he doesn’t really care. All he knows is that he could listen to Grantaire talk forever. Which would be surprising, since he does most of the talking in meetings, and in speeches in front of hundreds, and in presentations to professors. 

But he’s listening to the other man talk about how he found art and math intersect together, and he doesn’t really care. He’s halfway to being dead asleep and just succumbing to the blunt pain in his temples. Right now, it’s just impossible to do that when Grantaire’s voice, still slightly roughed out. The spots of paint haven’t left his hair or his face, adding color to his face.

“And then I started using rulers and protractors to paint a figure, and the final product was perfect. Just amazing. I think it was the best work I’ve ever done, so since then, I…” he tilts his head and takes in Enjolras’ chin in his hands, elbows propped on the table, “you’re really tired, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he admitted, “But I really like what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe we need more pizza. I still have a few slices left. Could you help me put the plates in the sink? I’ll get us fresh ones.”

Enjolras nods and stands, grateful for the opportunity to stretch his legs. He picks up the plates and follows Grantaire into the kitchen. As he places the dishes in the sink, Grantaire is opening the fridge before facing him, pizza box in hand. He opens his mouth, as if to ask a question. But somewhere in his muddled mind, all he can see are his pink plump lips. Grantaire’s just an inch taller, and it would be so easy to tilt his head up, leave a small kiss.

Not realizing that his body follows every thought at that moment, that’s exactly what he does.

Grantaire’s eyes are wide, eyebrows raised high, and Enjolras immediately knows he fucked up. And there’s an ugly twist in his stomach that gives him the wake-up moment he needs, and it’s the worst way to get an energy jolt.

He desperately tries to cover, “Sorry, just been a long night, must have leaned too forward.”

Grantaire answers by grabbing his waist and pulling him forward. Shoving the box on the counter, he kisses him back fervently, his hands capturing his waist and slamming Enjolras against the counter. One hand snakes up to his pec. He makes a soft noise and holds onto the counter for some balance. There’s a loud smash on the ground, and he registers the smell of coffee. Did a mug fall? It takes a second for him to realize he doesn’t really care right now, because his face is being pulled towards the man he’s been pining for months, it doesn’t feel real...

He parts briefly from him (and this deeply upsets Enjolras) and rasps, “This isn’t related to me microwaving another slice of pizza, is it?”

“Shut up, R.” Enjolras tugs him back roughly, their kiss headier this time, as he opens up under his touch. His hands are shaking as they clutch at Grantaire’s shoulders. The dark-haired man swipes his tongue across his bottom lip and nips slightly, and because his body is a traitor, he can’t control himself and moans. 

Grantaire parts from him again, his eyes even wider, eyes just a shade darker, sending a shiver down Enjolras’ spine.

“Uh, um, that was-” he stuttered, “that was mind blowing. But you’re not sure that this is because you’re tired or something?”

No, it’s not, because now he’s wide awake, more alert than he’s ever felt. He grabs Grantaire’s hand and intertwines their fingers, “No. I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

He inhales sharply, his face brightening, “Good. So have I. A long time now. I’ll talk about that later. Just know, I’m going to kiss you again now.”

And he leans right back in, picking up right where they left off. Enjolras smiles so slightly, trying to keep things innocent. Because this is their first kiss, he’s even lucky that this happened. It’s hard to ignore the tightening in his jeans, but he’s focusing on how soft Grantaire feels, how broad his shoulders are.

Then, Grantaire nips at his lower lip again, kissing hard with his tongue, and they both moan. All pretense of innocence is thrown out the window as Enjolras grabs the waistband of the other man’s shorts and pulls him close. Fucking hell, this is good. 

Grantaire parts from him again, and holding eye contact, grabs Enjolras’ hand and leads him down to his shorts. And Jesus, has him touch the tent in his shorts. He’s hard. Really hard. He curls his fingers around his erection, and the other man groans.

“I can feel how hard you are in your jeans,” he rasps, “If you want, just, if you want, we could maybe go into my bedroom?”

“Yes.” He says, maybe a little too quickly. There was no way he was going to turn anything down at this point.

His replying smile is bright before fading slightly, “You’re sure? I mean, you don’t have to. And we can always stop.”

“For the love of god, R, you have no idea how much I want you right now,” and taking a leap of faith, because there was no turning back, he lowers his voice, “I want you to fuckme.”

+

_1:05 AM_

Grantaire strips off his shirt in a wild moment, revealing the full extent of his tattoo sleeves. As if Enjolras could get even harder. He can’t help but run a hand through the extensive detail on the flowers on his upper arms.

“Off with this, too,” he rasps, pointing at the shorts. Grantaire smirks at him and says, “Or what?”

“What, you don’t want me to suck you off?”

And that was probably the fastest he’s ever seen Grantaire move. He lies down back on the bed as Enjolras is positioning himself between his legs.

“Enj, are you sure you want to, oh _fuuuuuck._ ” His voice drowns out as Enjolras sticks his tongue down his length, letting it hit the back of his throat. Trying to give him as much attention, trying to communicate how much he’s wanted this for a while. His hand flies to the base of his cock and squeezes it. Grantaire is quivering under him.

“Please take off your jeans,” he whispers, while gripping Enjolras’ blond hair, “Take everything off. Off. Let me touch you.”

He strips off his jeans and underwear, and lays back on top of him. And their cocks are aligned in just the right way that he’s inhaling faster. It feels so good, just grinding on him. Still under him, Grantaire grabs his neck and begins sucking onto it, and that just about breaks him in half.

“Oh fuck,” Enjolras tilted his head back, tilting his head and exposing his neck. His voice went up an octave, breathy and desperate, “Oh _fuck.”_

“You’re so hot,” Grantaire mumbles, wrapping a hand around both their cocks and sliding his hand up and down, aligned in a rhythm, a smirk crawling on his face, “What did you say earlier? That you wanted me to fuck you?”

Enjolras whines, “Please, god, R…”

Grantaire flips them over, his dark curls framing his face. His lips are tinged red from kissing, eyes almost black with wanting. It’s the best view he’s seen, ever, and god knows how much this was going to be in his dreams from now on.

The man on top of him dives into his bedside drawer and grabs a small container. Enjolras turns to see what it is, and he flushes crimson when he realizes it’s lube. He doesn’t even realize he’s gulped until Grantaire faces him again, chuckling.

“Relax,” his face is almost gentle, “I got you. I’ll use my fingers first, yeah?”

He nods almost desperately, spreading open his legs in anticipation. And after a few moments, he feels something entering his rim, and his hands tighten around his sheets. Gasping for breath, he looks up again and begs, “Oh god, please, _move-_ ”

And he’s cut off by a sensation that’s both tight and hot. Grantaire’s hands are wicked, managing to find his sweet spot on the third thrust, and putting another hand between them to stroke him again. Enjolras is embarrassed by the sounds he’s making, every other breath a moan while his entire body is shaking. But at this point, he also doesn’t care.

He can’t look away from Grantaire. His expression is partly why he’s feeling so hard. His curls are wild, biting his lip in concentration. His eyes are glassy and half-closed. At this point, Enjolras is almost positive he’s going to come, but he wants to feel Grantaire in him, and he’s just about to say this when he’s cut off.

“Enj, I…” his eyes widen as he takes in his ruptured state, “Do you still want me to fuck you?”

His own teeth sinking into his lip, he nods. Scrambling, Grantaire lubes himself, and Enjolras takes a moment to admire the view. God, he’s so much bigger and thicker than he thought, then he ever thought in his wildest daydreams. When he finishes up, he looks at him like he’s something holy before whispering as if he’s about to fall apart, “You ready?”

And the stretch, god, it feels amazing. He lets out a whine as he grabs a hold of R’s shoulders, trying to capture his lips in a messy kiss, but the other man is leaning away while smirking, while his hand brushes against Enjolras’ cock, that’s leaking pre-cum on his stomach..

“Tease.” Enjolras says under his breath, trying to leap upwards, just before his sweet spot is hit and his mouth opens in a perfect O as his eyes roll back into his head.

“Well, I guess I’ll give you a kiss,” Grantaire murmurs as he thrusts hard and deep, leaning down to lick into Enjolras’ open mouth, “But I’ll give you more if you come for me, gorgeous.”

Just then, he wraps his hand around his cock again, stroking in time to the thrusts. Enjolras is speechless, only releasing small _unh, unh, unh_ sounds in sync. His toes are beginning to curl and his stomach building with an intoxicating heat. He’s had sex before, years and years ago before he even met Grantaire...but this... _fuck._ Grantaire too, is speechless and is just groaning. His hand around him is gripping tighter and it’s driving the both of them crazy.

It’s the smallest gesture that sends him over tumbling, in the end. Grantaire leans down to nip at his earlobe before murmuring, “You have no idea how I want to keep fucking you like this every moment of every day.”

And Enjolras comes, earth-shattering and hot, as he releases a shaky breath. Just moments later, he feels R come all over him, and they ride it out until they collapse together in the bed.

“We should probably clean up,” Grantaire’s voice is hoarser than it was when they began. His stomach twists with pride with the knowledge that he caused this.

“In a minute,” he says, “I need to collect myself.”

_2:16 AM_

They’re lying in bed, shirts and underwear on, when he turns to face Grantaire and says, “Did I hear right before? That you wanted to do this to me for a while?”

He turns and pales, “Uh, yeah, you did. But we don’t have to talk about it. It just might make you uncomfortable and I’d rather not have that.”

Enjolras scoots closer, and says quietly, “I want to.”

The other man releases a shaky breath and says, “Okay. Just know it’s not the prettiest story.”

He pauses before plunging on, “I’ve had a thing for you for years. That’s why I argued with you all the time. I wanted a shred of attention, anything. It was definitely self-sabotage, but I’ve never known how to get positive attention,” he laughed bitterly, “I’m too used to negative attention. But then you came and apologized to me a while ago and…”

He locks eyes with him. His eyes are suddenly tired, and a tinge of sadness, “I realized it was probably worth getting to know you. Before, you know, you’d kick me out.”

Enjolras frowns, “I would have never kicked you out.”

Grantaire smiles slightly, “I have a hard time believing that, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Anyways, I’ve liked you for years. Not even a crush anymore. I like spending time with you,” his voice sinks and almost disappears, “I understand if you’d want to leave. It’s not the nicest thing to know.”

And Enjolras just smiles, and leans over for a soft kiss, tender this time, “Idiot. I’ve liked you for a while now, too.”

R’s eyes widen, “Really? What? You’re not joking?”

“I’m not,” he gives him a light punch in the arm, “Why do you think I went to you for tutoring help rather than actually just going to my TA?”

Grantaire faces the ceiling, eyes full of wonder, “Oh.”

“I really like you, R. And, if you’d like, this could be a thing. You and me, I mean.”

He turns and smiles brightly, “I’d like that. But, er, Enj?”

“Yeah?”

“We should probably get back to statistics soon.”

He punches his arm again, a little harder this time, “Idiot. That can wait till the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> writing about math made my brain hurt. now to go drink some water and maybe order pizza.
> 
> thanks for reading! feedback appreciated :))


End file.
